


Live to Tell

by slasher48



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allosexism, Alternate Universe - High School, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Bisexual Male Character, Gen, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Sex Indifferent Asexuality, Sex Repulsed Asexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slasher48/pseuds/slasher48
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, asexual. That’s a new one,” Dean says, sounding uncomfortable, and Castiel doesn’t know how to make this easier on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live to Tell

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNINGS AT THE BOTTOM**

Dean’s staring at him, still and silent like someone’s frozen time, his face contorted in what might be horror, and Castiel can’t believe he let this happen. It was a mistake, and he wants to rewind to before it was made.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean says nothing. The halls of the high school are inopportunely empty, but the last students apart from the two of them left hours ago. Castiel always  _hates_  the noise, but right now he’d take  _anything_  over the combination of Dean’s speechlessness and the voice of Meg Masters at the back of his mind reminding him how  _useless_  he is. (Rejection wasn’t a good look for her, and he confesses he’s stayed away from her since.)

But he  _had_  to tell Dean. How could they have remained friends otherwise? He had tried the assimilation bit, had kissed a junior boy at a baseball game, kissed a girl at Dean’s birthday party, kissed a genderqueer college student at a house party he hadn’t even wanted to attend (but Dean had begged) and tried hard to find something in him that wanted more from them. Dean had ribbed him with a conspiratorial smile, teasing at the possibility proudly, like there was a club he’d just gained membership to, every time. But soon the guilt, the sickening self-loathing, of  _lying_ to someone who had shared more truth with him than anyone had ever done before…

He  _had_  to tell him. It wasn’t fair to Dean.

Dean makes a sound, and Castiel flinches, waiting. He’s so alone at home, and even in his extracurriculars like art club and the literary magazine, no one’s ever really known him like Dean. With anyone else, Castiel would spit in the face of the disbelief, disappointment and disgust at this point, far past believing Meg. But  _Dean_ , Dean means everything. If Dean hates this, Castiel won’t be the same. He can’t imagine life post-Dean.

Finally, Dean speaks. “ _Nobody_?” and Castiel flinches again, taking a step back, his face tight and his eyes stinging. That’s what Gabriel had said, and he hasn’t stopped trying to fix up his ‘virgin baby cousin’ since.

Castiel nods, clinging to the defiance online message boards and an unfortunate experience with a sexually aggressive senior had instilled, straightening up and meeting Dean’s wide eyes dead-on. “Nobody.”

Dean’s face is, if Castiel had to label it—and he’s never been good at that, devastated. “Ever.”

Castiel nods again, wary of the dullness in Dean’s voice. “That’s right.”

“But you k—” Castiel glares, crossing his arms, in a way that appears to stop Dean cold. “Okay.”

“I’m well aware of who I’ve kissed, Dean. Some of them I even kissed for my own reasons—kissing isn’t as unappealing to me, when it’s not the basis for eventual sex.” Dean deflates at that, his whole body shrinking, and stops asking for proof (blessedly).

“What about Meg?” He does ask, but he sounds honestly curious rather than incredulous, and Castiel lowers his hackles by force, even as something in his stomach roils at the mention.

“Nothing ever happened when you weren’t around,” he says quietly, but firmly. Dean rubs a hand over his face and looks away. “…Dean. Dean, don’t. You couldn’t have known.”

“But—” The devastation is verbal now, and Castiel somewhat resents Dean for making this moment about his guilt, even as he wants to step forward and hug him the way he did when Sam’s fever put him in the hospital last year. He sounds so helpless and upset, just like then.

“No. The fact that I gave the two of you the wrong idea on purpose is entirely on me.” He had struggled with it for  _weeks_  afterward, weighing Dean’s affectionate shoulder slaps against the ugly expression and sharp words Meg had driven his brokenness into him with after he’d stopped her aspirations past kissing, and eventually decided to do anything to keep Dean from finding out. That had been a year and a half ago, at Dean’s birthday party, and it’s taken him  _so_  long to change his mind.

“So, asexual. That’s a new one,” Dean says, sounding uncomfortable, and Castiel doesn’t know how to make this easier on him. It’s not even easy for  _him_ , and he’s the one who actually knows the word.

“Yes.” And then, because he’s lost the ability to be patient, “Is that all right? I need to know, if it’s not.”

Dean’s head snaps up from where he’s rubbing his neck, exhaling hard in the direction of Castiel’s shoes.

“ _What_? Cas, it’s not up to me to—” He stops, breathes, leans forward on his heels a little. “Do what you want, dude, makes no difference to me.”

Castiel’s jaw tightens. “Okay,” he says, a little bitterly, struggling to reconcile the overbearing relief with the feeling that he’s being dismissed. He turns, a bit stung, and mumbles, “I guess I’ll call you later, then,” leaving Dean by his locker.

He only makes it halfway down the hall before those telltale footfalls, worn out boots on tile, come up behind him, and freezes in shock as strong arms wrap around him, as a freckled face that inspires immediate affection presses firmly against his shoulder, and into his overcoat vibrate the words, “Thanks, for telling me, Cas.”

Castiel’s throat closes up and he pats Dean’s hand, unable to breathe for a long moment. “I tell you everything, Dean,” he finally manages to say, soft and sincere, and Dean squeezes him harder.

“I know, man, but this was probably hard. When I told you about that guy from over the summer, I felt like I was gonna puke on your shoes, and this is kinda the same thing, right? So, it’s really cool, that you did.”

Oh God, Castiel has to get out of here before Dean’s words move him to tears. He’ll never live that down, not when Dean calls him ‘Grumpy’ as a rule and jokes fondly about how his face barely moves.

Biting his lip, he swallows, eyes wet. “You won’t tell another soul, right?” Dean nods against him.

“You can trust me with this, Cas.” And then it’s this confusing wash of warmth, sluicing through him, that sends a tear down his cheek. He swallows again, audibly this time, and feels grateful for Dean behind him, holding him up, when he feels weak enough to sink to the floor.

“Good.”  _Because I do_.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: the point of view here, of an asexual character (though I did think I was ace for a time and I'm not sure if Castiel will /stay/ asexual or move along the spectrum), facing allosexism and abuse and assault, may be triggering.
> 
> (Additionally, this can be Dean/Castiel if you squint, but I tried to keep their relationship pretty vestal/affectionate.)


End file.
